


keeping all my secrets safe tonight

by circleoffifths



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Espionage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-25 19:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circleoffifths/pseuds/circleoffifths
Summary: Victor notices one of the security cameras swivelling to follow his path through the room, and he winks roguishly in its direction, knowing who's at the other end of it.'Nikiforov, could aim to be a little less conspicuous?' Yuuri hisses. A small smirk graces his agent's lips when he hears how irate Yuuri sounds. It's not a secret that Victor loves riling Yuuri up at every turn.(In which Victor is the Living Legend of the espionage world, and Yuuri is his exasperated but hopelessly smitten quartermaster.)





	keeping all my secrets safe tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time I watched a lot of Craig!Bond, so now I'm putting my (admittedly minimal) knowledge to good use. Q branch is basically the research and development branch of MI6, and they deal with the agents' equipment, as well as handle their missions, and the quartermaster is the head of Q branch.

‘Agent Nikiforov, reporting for duty.’

Yuuri looks up at his security camera feed as the speakers connected to Victor’s microphone crackle to life, and watches as his agent casually strolls through the doors of the casino. Victor fits in perfectly with the crowd there, dressed in a classic bespoke tuxedo with not even a strand of silver hair out of place.

There are five hundred security cameras in the casino alone, and Yuuri has access to all of them. Currently, only the ones that have Victor in the frame are projected onto the multiple screens at the front of Q branch, the department he leads to facilitate his agents’ missions. Half of his team is analysing the live feed, taking note of potential threats to the mission, and the other half is furiously typing away at their computers, gathering intelligence. He's in charge of incorporating all the information his team gives him, and guiding his agent through the mission safely.

His agent today just happens to be Victor Nikiforov, arguably one of the best agents MI6 has ever had. He's notorious throughout the espionage world, and his exploits are the stuff of legend. Victor’s well-known for his exceptionally high success rates, near-death experiences, and conquests. He's even more well-known in the MI6 for being a gigantic pain in the arse, prone to ignoring half of the instructions he receives from Q branch on missions unless Yuuri’s the one personally guiding him. Which he's taken to doing all the time, since everyone else in the branch is either too in awe of or too scared to work with him.

Just another day at MI6, really.

‘Agent Nikiforov, your quartermaster speaking. I have a clear visual. We’re still waiting for our target to appear, she's supposed to arrive in half an hour, according to our information. Once she's there, you'll do everything you need to do to get into her room. Unfortunately, it seems there's no other way to get inside without a personal invitation from her,’ Yuuri speaks into Victor’s earpiece. He's anxious, like he always is at the start of every mission, but he tries his best to pull himself together. Victor’s relying on him to keep a clear head to guide him through the mission, after all. Besides, this one was fairly standard, and with Victor’s experience, everything should go off without a hitch.

‘Aww Yuuuuuri, is it going to be all work and no play from you again?’ Victor teases, speaking discreetly through the side of his mouth into the microphone concealed on the lapels of his suit. His ice blue eyes sweep slowly across the room, and Yuuri knows he’s assessing the various escape routes. It's practically hard wired into his instinct at this point.

Yuuri chooses to ignore that, knowing that Victor’s flirting would only get worse if he takes the bait. 'Go sit at the bar while we wait for her to appear, there's someone there you'd probably like to see.'

‘Keep your eyes on me, quartermaster,’ is Victor’s lilting response. He doesn't need to hear Yuuri’s reply to that, knows that it'll be a definite _of course._ Victor trusts Yuuri wholeheartedly with his life, and it's not a responsibility Yuuri takes lightly. The thought fills Yuuri’s chest with a welcome warmth, and it's only with the slightest bit of fluster that he chides, ‘Focus, Nikiforov.’

Yuuri watches exasperatedly as Victor flirts his way through the crowd, heading slowly but surely to the bar. A knowing smile here, a wink there, this is Victor in his natural element, turning heads and winning hearts as easily as he exudes charm. Victor notices one of the security cameras swiveling to follow his path through the room, and he winks roguishly in its direction, knowing who's at the other end of it.

'Nikiforov, could aim to be a little less conspicuous?' Yuuri hisses. A small smirk graces his agent's lips when he hears how irate Yuuri sounds. It's not a secret that Victor loves riling Yuuri up at every turn.

'There's no reason why they'll suspect me, I'm as Russian as they come. No one in their right mind would think I'd be working with the British,' Victor mutters under his breath, while continuing to search the crowds.

M, the head of MI6, who's been watching the proceedings, remarks, 'It would do you well to remember that once in a while and stop creating international accidents in the name of the British secret service, Agent Nikiforov.'

'Yes, yes, Queen and country and all that, I get it.' Victor's voice trails off as he reaches the bar, a familiar redhead already seated there, nursing a drink. 'Mila,' he greets, taking in the gorgeous Russian lady. 'You've not changed one bit since I last saw you.'

'Victor,' Mila purrs, tossing her red locks away from her eye. Coupled with the revealing black dress that showed off miles of her flawless skin, any other man would have found themselves hapless and in her mercy. But Victor's been in this game for as long as she has, and is impervious to all the glitz and glamour that comes with it.

'Still not done with your stint at the MI6?' she continues, 'exactly how good of a lay is that quartermaster of yours, anyway? Good enough that you'd stay away for so many years?' There's a slight note of amusement in her voice as she looks slyly at Victor.

'Sir, is there anything you would like to drink?' The bartender appears next to them, looking at Victor expectantly. 'One vodka martini, shaken, not stirred,' Victor replies. He turns to Mila and addresses her directly once the bartender has left. 'He's better than anyone I've ever had, actually. And considering my job, that is saying quite a lot.'

On the other end of the line, Yuuri has turned into a rather unflattering shade of red. There's silence in the Q branch as everyone registers Victor's words, but no one is stupid enough to call Yuuri out on it, and it's just as well, seeing how he's the one who handles their paychecks.

Luckily, M has already left the room and is not there to witness Yuuri's downfall as his face attempts to emulate the exact shade of red as the English telephone booth.

'Agent Nikiforov, you're on speaker, everyone in Q branch can hear exactly what you're saying,' he mumbles into Victor's earpiece while clutching nervously at the edges of his desk. Behind him, the sound of his workers going back to work start up again. They're either too well trained, or too used to this kind of behaviour from Victor. Yuuri doesn't know which is worse, his colleagues silently judging him behind his back, or this being a common enough occurrence that they're simply not bothered by it anymore. Both options make him want to curl up into a ball of embarrassment.

As always, Victor appears to fail to take the hint, finding the nearest security camera and widening his eyes innocently at it, the perfect picture of a _who, me_? But even from this distance, Yuuri can see that there's a pleased upturn at the corners of his lips. Victor knows exactly what he's doing, and he's enjoying every second of it too, the git.

Victor's antics do not go unnoticed by Mila, either.

'You really are smitten, aren't you, Vitya? Exactly what have you gotten yourself into?' She raises one perfectly groomed eyebrow at him, voice filled with mirth. The look on her face softens as Victor makes no attempt to refute her claim. She places her hand on his arm. 'Yakov misses you, you know,' she says in an undertone. 'You can really tell with how he keeps threatening to drag you back to Russia himself if it's the last thing he does, in between cursing your name at regular intervals.'

'Pfft, Yakov doesn't care what I do, as long as it's not directly against Russia's interests,' Victor scoffs. 'Besides, he'll really have to come out to the field himself if he wants me back, seeing as how all his other agents are so incompetent.' Here, he tilts his head back and stares directly into Mila's eyes in challenge. 'Your people are not getting anywhere near Aleksandra tonight, you know. She's my target, and I'm the best.'

Their eyes don't leave each other. Victor sits with his posture open and relaxed, one arm resting on the bar, and Mila gazes back with her eyes seductive and hooded. To anyone else in the room, they would appear to be flirting, but Yuuri knows better. They're sizing each other up, waiting for the other to slip up first. Yuuri also knows that this is futile. They've both trained for years under the same person, even worked on several missions together before Victor left. Mila knows all of Victor's tells, knows exactly when he is lying and when he is bluffing, just as how Victor knows all of hers.

Which is why he explicitly told Victor before the start of the mission not to try any of that.

Right on cue, Mila's attention is dragged away by her earpiece, and she's the first to break eye contact. She listens intently for a moment, before her face lights up. 'Are you so sure you're getting to Aleksandra first, Vitya? Because it seems like I have a lead while you,' she looks pointedly in the direction of Victor's silent concealed earpiece, 'don't.'

At that, she stands gracefully from her seat and strides purposefully into the crowd, her dress moving sensually with the sashaying of her hips. Victor watches her retreating back silently for a while, before grinning and saying, 'Well done Yuuri, exactly as planned. I knew I could count on you.'

Yuuri, who had up to this moment been steadily returning to his normal skin shade, feels the telltale heat creep up his cheeks again at Victor's compliment. He's just planted false information in the Russian secret services' ranks, allowing Victor to go after the real Aleksandra.

'It's nothing, just doing my job,' he says. On the screen, Victor has begun to sip at his drink, drumming his fingers lightly against the wooden table as he waits for further information. He cuts a striking figure, in his tailored suit, leaning against the bar with a casual elegance that few could hope to imitate. Yuuri catches more than a few people shooting interested glances at Victor from the numerous security cameras he has aimed at the man.

Victor is apparently interested in none of them. His attention is focused elsewhere entirely, judging by the faraway look in his eyes and how he's murmuring seductively into his microphone.

'Oh, but Yuuri, it really was a job well done... I'll show you all the appreciation I have for your work when I get back, hmm? Wou-'

'Agent Nikiforov, the target has just entered the room, your two o' clock, near the fountains,' Yuuri interrupts, grateful that Aleksandra has finally appeared so that he (and the rest of Q branch) doesn't have to endure round two of embarrassment from Victor's flirting.  

It's fascinating to watch Victor transform, all that languid ease sharpening until he becomes all intent, a weapon focused on one goal. He makes his way confidently towards the beautiful, dark haired woman dressed in a shimmering, low cut evening gown in the center of the room.

Aleksandra Zharkova, the only daughter of infamous mafia boss Dmitri Zharkov, here on her father's orders to pass along classified information on the gang's illegal human trafficking ring to a subordinate. Just like everyone within a ten meter radius of Victor, she notices him immediately. Her head turns almost imperceptibly in Victor's direction, and just like that, Yuuri knows half the battle is won.

When Victor gets within her reach, he appears to trip, spilling the drink in his hand down the front of her dress. He sucks in a breath, and stammers out, 'I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there, I’ll just go-’

Victor looks up and appears to notice her face for the first time. A faint blush rises on his face, and his clear blue eyes widen as he stares up at her from underneath his pale eyelashes. Yuuri does not miss how she fixates on the flush of his cheeks and the pink of his mouth, and he's sure Victor doesn't, either. ‘Oh - are you Ms. Zharkova? I was supposed to meet with you tonight, and now I’ve gone and made a fool of myself.’ Victor lowers his eyes and looks to the side, the very picture of bashful innocence.

Yuuri snorts under his breath, and he sees the answering quirk at the corner of Victor's lips. He knows that look all too well, having been on the receiving end of it for more times than he can count. It's the same one Victor uses on him when he wants to get his way, or when he wants to get out of trouble for breaking protocol.

For all he might appear airheaded, he's eerily perceptive when it suits his purposes. Once he's sussed out his target's weaknesses, their likes and dislikes, it's only a matter of time before he gets the information he wants from them. He wears the persona tailored to each individual target like a second skin, and slowly works away at them until their secrets spill, thick and viscous, into his waiting hands.

He's not known as the Living Legend of the espionage world for nothing, after all.

Aleksandra, it seems, buys heavily into the fantasy of a shy and sweet subordinate who looks entirely too innocent to be involved with the mafia. Her smile is as dark as sin as she runs a perfectly manicured finger down the front of Victor’s chest.

‘Mmm, it’s no problem, why don’t we take this to my room? It’s just upstairs, I can get a change of clothes and then we can… get down to business matters.’

Aleksandra takes in the demure fluttering of Victor’s eyelashes, the slight part of his lips. Victor looks entirely entranced by her, and this image apparently sits well with her. Without waiting for an answer, she folds her hand into the crook of his arm and starts to lead him out of the casino.

‘Well, that was easy,’ Yuuri says to no one in particular. He hadn't expected Aleksandra to be quite so - forward. But he's not complaining, if it makes the job easier to complete, and brings Victor home sooner, out of harm’s way. He tracks the two of them as they make their way out of the casino and to the hotel.

Once safely ensconced in the lift, Aleksandra plasters herself to Victor's side and puts a hand on his face to bring him to look at her. She considers him with half-lidded eyes, running her thumb over his cheekbone.

‘I don’t believe you’ve told me your name yet, little tiger.’

Victor licks his own lips even as his gaze flits down to her red ones. ‘Pyotr Vasilyev, under Petrov’s branch.’

The real Pyotr is currently lying tied up in some secluded stairwell of the hotel, courtesy of the handiwork of one Victor Nikiforov, likely cursing Victor’s name as best as he can with a gag in his mouth.

Aleksandra is so distracted by Victor’s act that she doesn’t even ask him for identification. Yuuri almost feels sorry for the poor girl, knowing exactly how it feels like to be pinned down by those blue eyes, to have them look at you like you were all that mattered. But then he remembers that she's part of a human trafficking ring, and just like that, he's back in work mode.

‘Sir, the floor has been swept and cleared,’ one of his team members informs him. He nods and relays the information to Victor.

‘Nikiforov, the bodyguards on her floor have already been taken care of by our backup team, make sure you distract her all the way to the room so that she doesn't notice. Once you get into her room, I'll have limited surveillance. Unfortunately, we’ll only have the camera hidden on your suit buttonhole, but we'll be ready with backup if you need any help. Try to get out of there as soon as possible and,’ Yuuri lowers his voice so no one else in the room can hear him, ‘do be careful, won't you?’

There's no way Victor can answer him without giving himself away, and Yuuri can only hope that he's taken his words to heart.

As soon as the lift doors open, Victor has his mouth on Aleksandra’s, effectively distracting her from her surroundings. He turns them around so that he's blocking her view of the corridor. Breaking the heated kiss, he asks, ‘Where to?’ Aleksandra appears dazed, and her eyes never leaves Victor's for a moment as she answers with her room number. Victor barely gives her time to breathe before his lips are on hers again, while he steers them in the direction of her room.

This is the hardest part of being Victor’s handler, watching Victor seduce his targets. It's not because sex is sometimes involved - Yuuri’s not a _prude_ , and he knows just as well as Victor does that it's just a job. It means nothing to Victor, he's never emotionally compromised, unlike most of his partners, and that's what makes him so good at his this. No, the hardest part is watching as Victor takes on a completely new persona until there's nothing of _Yuuri’s_ Victor left, the one who laughs and jokes and flirts with him, the one who looks at him with so much adoration in his eyes.

Yuuri shakes his head to clear it. He needs to focus, not fill his head with useless sentimentality right now. Victor needs him, and he would never forgive himself if Victor came to harm under his watch.

He switches the feed on the screen at the front of Q branch to the camera attached to Victor’s suit as they enter her hotel room, for all the good that it does him. Currently, the only visuals he’s getting are a black screen and the occasional blur of motion, accompanied by the sound of fabric sliding against fabric and the wet sounds of kissing.

Q branch is tense as they listen intently to the transmission from Victor’s microphone, ready to jump into action if the need arises. It's probably a strange sight to behold, a room full of people listening in like voyeurs to Victor’s muffled moans of pleasure.

Yuuri's glad to note that he's not the only one who seems flustered by this; but then again, he always has a perpetual blush on his face whenever Victor is concerned. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, unspeakably grateful that the telltale tightness of the crotch of his pants is safely obscured behind his desk. Luckily for him, his ordeal does not last long.

Aleksandra comes into view on the screen as Victor breaks off from her. His voice is ragged and breathless. ‘Ms. Zharkova, I’d love to continue this, but I'm afraid work comes first.’

‘Mmm, such a good little worker, maybe I'll get daddy to give you a raise,’ she teases. Nevertheless, she turns away from him to unlock the safe in the corner of the room. From it, she draws out an inconspicuous thumb drive, the whole purpose of this entire mission.

Aleksandra steps towards Victor and drops the thumb drive into his front pocket, patting it for good measure, before returning to lock the safe.

Yuuri sits up straighter and brings his mouth to the microphone. ‘Good job, Nikiforov, now get out of there as soon as possible, we’re not sure when her backup will arrive or how long your disguise will hold up.’

‘And her?’ Victor asks, now that he's no longer keeping up his pretense. Aleksandra looks to him in confusion, a furrow between her neatly plucked brows, but Victor's attention is elsewhere.

‘Leave her for now, it's her father we're after.’

As soon as Yuuri has finished talking, Victor is striding out the door, back into the hotel corridor and within the view of the security cameras. He looks slightly disheveled, no longer as put together as he was at the start of the evening, wiping traces of smudged red lipstick from his mouth.

A knot of tension that Yuuri hadn't even realised was there releases from his chest. It's irrational, he knows, because Victor’s been doing this for longer than he has, but he feels much more secure with the other man within his sight.

‘Wait, where are you going? We’re not done yet, tiger!’ Aleksandra calls, running after Victor to the hallway and grabbing onto his arm.

When Victor turns around, there's no trace of the flustered and smitten young subordinate. His eyes are ice cold, and his face is closed off as he pulls his arm away from her grasp.

‘Forgive me, but I have somewhere else to be,’ he says curtly. He makes to step away, but Aleksandra is relentless and unwilling to let her evening’s entertainment escape so easily. Her hand shoots out and fists into Victor's lapels.

‘Is that any way to treat the daughter of your boss? This could reflect on your… performance review.’

If Victor was cold before, he's positively frigid now.

‘By all means.’

Confusion, followed by rage, crosses her face as she processes his words. She seems to realise for the first time that her bodyguards are nowhere to be found. Her hand unclenches from his suit as she assesses him.

‘Who are you, exactly?’

 _Oh no_ , Yuuri thinks,  _walk away, Victor, please._ But Victor Nikiforov, being Victor Nikiforov, is never able to resist an opportunity for him to display his flair for the dramatic, especially not when said opportunity has presented itself so nicely in front of him.

'The name's Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov, surely you've heard of me?' He levels a smug grin at her, more teeth than smile, looking as pleased as the cat who got the cream. _You've been played_ , the smile says, _you've been had, and it wasn't even a challenge at all_.

She shakes her head in disbelief, as it finally dawns on her exactly what she'd done.

This is the part where the villains run in fear, and the scorned women collapse to the floor in a fit of hysterics. This is the part where Victor Nikiforov walks away unscathed, with one more victory under his designer Saint Laurent belt to cement his position as the Living Legend of the espionage world.

But Aleksandra, it seems, is no ordinary villain nor scorned woman.

‘Fuck you, Nikiforov,’ she spits out, eyes narrowing with distaste, ‘of course I've heard of you, breaking hearts left, right, and center. And what's so great about that, being able to be every single person's perfect lover? You're just a chameleon, you are what people want you to be, with no personality of your own. Peel back all those sharp suits and that dripping charm, and what's left? Nothing, and that's all you'll ever be.’ Her chest heaves with emotion, and she glares at Victor, as if daring him to dispute her.

Surprisingly, Victor has no clever quip in response, no dry, sarcastic remark that he was so well-known for. From Yuuri’s vantage point, he can see that Victor’s eyes are guarded, his posture tense as he watches her storm off. There's none of the usual triumph he exudes at a job well done, and Yuuri knows something is very, very wrong.

‘Niki... Victor.' He modulates his voice, and hopes that he comes off as the calm he does not feel. 'As usual, congratulations on a successful mission, your plane wi-'

'I'll report to Q branch with the mission report and my equipment on Friday.' Victor cuts him off. His tone is cold, controlled, and betrays none of the affection he usually shows Yuuri.

He watches helplessly as Victor pulls out his earpiece and throws it to the side, preventing any further communication between them. Victor turns his back on the security camera Yuuri has directed at him, and, with the ease of someone trained their whole life to avoid detection, slips from Yuuri's sight.

**Author's Note:**

> I only realised once I started writing this that there are no British characters in YOI, but *handwaves*
> 
> Also, when I was researching the Russian secret service, I found out that they haven't been called the KGB since the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991? They're now the Foreign Intelligence Service of the Russian Federation, which doesn't have the same kind of pizzazz, if you ask me. It's wild how people are still referring to them as the KGB. Or maybe I'm just really out of touch.
> 
> Yuuri calls Victor 'Nikiforov' in the workplace to maintain some semblance of professionalism, but let's be real here, people can probably see through his act from outer space.


End file.
